


I'd Call That A Bargain

by Westgate (Harkpad)



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bruce is trying, Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Not Canon Compliant, Protective Bruce Wayne, Protective Jason Todd, Protective Tim Drake, Tim Drake Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:13:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23376691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harkpad/pseuds/Westgate
Summary: Tim has disappeared and Jason isn't taking it well. Tim is his bridge, his brother who brought him back, the one who understands. Lucky for Jason, he finds Tim, only finding Tim uncovers a bothersome truth.
Relationships: Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Tim Drake, Stephanie Brown & Cassandra Cain & Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne
Comments: 31
Kudos: 562





	1. I'd Gladly Lose Me to Find You

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank @chaosisorderly for a serious writing lesson and help with this little piece. I have even posted a new version of chapter one here, because they made it stronger with deft suggestions about pesky filter words.

_“Jason?” It’s Bruce, standing in the doorway, his dark hair still damp from a post-patrol shower, and the dark circles under his eyes match the dark turtleneck and dark slacks he has on. He’s done with patrol, but he’s not done for the night._

_Jason looks up at him, startled._

_“Why are you in Tim’s room?”_

_Jason looks around slowly, and his eyes roam over the neat bookshelves full of programming books, finance books, and spy novels, over Tim’s messy desk piled with stacks of paper, an empty glass, an orange post-it note stack, and other detritus of a late night. Tim’s cherry wood dresser is dark against the light tan paint of the walls. The dresser has pictures on top, mostly small frames of the family members, but one larger one in the back of two people Jason’s never met._

_He turns back to Bruce and shrugs. “I can’t stay here any longer.” He’d been sleeping in a guest room since Tim’s disappearance, the same room he used when he stayed over because of a bad patrol, or because Dick wanted everyone to play board games late into the night, or Tim wanted to show Jason a movie he missed while dead, or Damian insisted on sitting on his bedroom floor with Jason and drawing until it was later than Jason expected. “I’m going back to my place.”_

_Bruce frowned. “You should stay. A lead could come at any second, and we need your help.”_

_Jason stood and shook his head, crossing his arms tightly across his chest. “You know Tim set my apartment up with a kick-ass computer system that ties into yours and I can meet you if a lead comes up. I can’t stay here, Bruce.” He moves, tries to push past Bruce in the doorway._

_Bruce’s steel arms stop him. “Jason, you can’t leave.”_

_Jason looks up sharply at him. He can hear the quiet desperation in Bruce’s voice, a tenor he hasn’t heard since they finally started making up those years ago. It should be enough to keep Jason where Bruce needs him, but not today. “I have to. I can’t be here while – while it happens again. I can’t_ watch _you lose one of us, Bruce. I can’t.”_

_“Jason,” Bruce says, and this time it’s strangled, like he’s choking it off. Maybe it’s fear. “I can’t lose you, too.”_

_Jason closes his eyes and pushes again. “You’re not losing me, Bruce. I’m going back to my apartment. I’ll keep helping with the search, but I’m not staying here. Tim’s supposed to be here and – I’m not staying here to replace him while he’s gone.” This time his desperation is thick, and this time, Bruce let him go._

The dry, brown grass crackles under Jason’s boots as he trudges toward the edge of the water. He stands as close to where the brown waves lap against the dirty sand as he can without getting wet, close enough that the sand shifts under his feet every once in a while, close enough to let the water of the channel become his whole view. He can’t see the city behind him. That’s good. Right now, Gotham, the city that gets written into the DNA of its born-and-raised residents, is the last thing he wants to look at. 

Now he stares at the water, the slap of it rough against the shore, and focuses on the waves so that the city sounds behind him disappear. He’d like to disappear, but if he did then Bruce and the others would have one more problem to handle, and the Tim problem is enough for all of them. It’s enough to send Jason running from the Manor and coming here, trying to drown out the noise in his head that is chaos and fear and sadness all jumbled together, a feeling so close to that night in the warehouse in Ethiopia that all Jason can do is run. 

He stares and lets the sounds of the channel wash away the swirl of emotions that feel like dust caught in his throat. That’s when he notices the small boat with a body draped across it, a body in a red and black Kevlar body suit. An unconscious kid with a shock of straight black hair and a black domino over his eyes. Jason blinks. He’s still there. The boat is actually close to the shore a hundred feet or so down from where Jason is standing, so he runs. 

He splashes into the water and is greeted with a rare stroke of good luck when the bottom doesn’t drop out on him before he can get a hand on the boat and pull it to the shore. He lugs it up onto the bank and throws himself down next to Tim. 

Tim, who has become a safe bridge for Jason to walk between his life as Red Hood and his life at the Manor as Jason, back in the family. Tim’s stubborn determination, the kind that is a visible flare in his eyes when he cranks it up, pulls Jason into an agreement with Bruce, a reconciliation with Alfred and Dick, and a full-on big brother relationship with Damian over the last two years. 

It was always Tim’s company Jason loved best, though, once it became clear all the ways Tim was _not_ a better Robin, just a different one, the one Bruce needed at the moment. The day Jason figured this out, he and Tim had played Mario Kart and Mario Party until eight in the morning after they’d finished patrol, and from there on, they’d meet for coffee in the city, for video games after patrol, for long talks on the rooftops of Gotham about all the ways Bruce Wayne could rescue someone. 

Now Tim is dreadfully paler than usual with blood crusted in a jagged tattoo over one whole side of his face, and his body is limp as Jason presses his fingers to his neck, desperate to find a pulse. It’s there, but it’s sluggish. He looks over Tim’s body at the burns blistering across his stomach and thighs, where his suit is charred and pulled away, and a puncture wound just beneath his rib cage on his right side. It’s sluggishly bleeding, and a pool of blood has gathered in the bottom of the boat. 

He brushes Tim’s wet hair back from his face. “What the hell, Timmy. What happened to you?” he asks as he pulls his phone from his back pocket. He presses the emergency button that will patch him through to both Oracle and Bruce. 

“Red Hood, report,” Bruce’s curt voice snaps.

“I’ve found him, B. It’s Red Robin, but – “

He hears Bruce suck in a sharp breath.

“B, he’s hurt bad and I’m in civvies and we’re down by the channel, you know the spot I like to come to, and we need medical evac _yesterday_.”

Oracle chimes in, “I can have an ambulance there in two minutes, if you can’t wait for B to come with the plane.” 

“I’ll have the plane there in five,” Bruce says, and Jason can hear him running through the cave. “A will be there for medical support and I’ll have Leslie in the cave by the time we get back.” 

“Okay,” Jason says. “Hold off on the ambulance, O. He’s still in uniform and I’m afraid to try and get it off him.” He swallows hard. “Hurry, B. Hurry.” 

He hangs up and presses his fingers to Tim’s throat again. “Hold on, you jerk,” he whispers. He blinks and Tim is laughing in the living room, his head thrown back and his eyes shining bright. Tim doesn’t laugh very often, but when he does, it’s full and raucous and loud, and it’s contagious. 

“You scared the shit out of us disappearing, you goddamned idiot. Where the fuck have you been?” Jason can’t move him, not without help, but he still wants to yank him from the boat and hold him tight so he won’t disappear again. Instead, he shucks off his jacket and wraps Tim as tight as he can risk. Tim’s skin is way too cold. 

He blinks and he’s sparring with Tim in the cave, Tim’s lithe quickness and that damned bo-staff making things very difficult for Jason, who really relies on throwing his body weight into a fight to win it. Dick and Dami are yelling from the edge of the mat, trying to distract Jason. Everyone always roots for Tim when he’s sparring someone; Jason does, too.

He presses the jacket closer around Tim’s body and is startled by a groan and Tim’s eyes fluttering open. “Jay?” Tim whispers, and then clenches his eyes shut, against the pain or the bright light of the sun, Jason’s not sure which. 

“Hey Timmy,” he replies, and he brushes Tim’s hair out of his eyes. “You’re gonna be okay.” 

“Jay,” Tim repeats. “It was Two-Face. I lost the toss,” he says, and his voice is breathy and thin. “You have to get –“ he sucks in a sharp breath. “The boat, Jay. The boat, I lost the toss,” he mutters and then he passes out again.

Jason doesn’t wait, just pulls Tim from the boat and runs. He doesn’t get far before the little boat explodes and heat and debris slam into Jason’s back and knock him to his knees. He manages to set Tim on the ground before he falls over top of him, desperate to keep anything from landing on Tim’s already battered body. Wood and metal rain around him, but he stays hunched over Tim, gritting his teeth against the pain as something buries itself in the back of his thigh. 

When debris stops falling, he looks around. The boat is in a million pieces. Tim is underneath Jason, his mouth slack and his face paler, somehow, than before. Jason blows out a breath when he sees how close the motor came to hitting them as it lay a few feet away, buried half in the ground from the force of the explosion.The world has gone silent around him, no water lapping, no traffic noises, no crowd sounds in the distance, silent. 

Jason blinks and checks Tim’s pulse again, relieved to find it. He stays where he is, hovering over Tim and trying to get his insides to stop trying to shake their way out of his skin. He locks his elbows and presses harder against the dirt under his fingers. 

His hearing is fucked, so he’s startled when the Batplane disturbs the air and lands nearby. He looks up to see Bruce lower the ramp and then emerge in full costume, pushing a stretcher. When he reaches them, Bruce kneels down and pulls Jason back from Tim, and if he says anything Jason can’t hear him. He struggles to his feet as Bruce loads Tim on a stretcher and limps after them. 

With his ears still ringing, Bruce’s voice fades in and out as Jason closes the ramp and stumbles into the main bay of the plane. He sits down, leaning his head back, and must lose some time because suddenly Bruce is there, pressing his hand to Jason’s chest and saying something with his brow furrowed with worry. 

“My ears are fucked from the explosion, Bruce,” he mutters, pushing Bruce’s hand away, “but I’m okay for now.” 

Bruce stares for a beat, nods, and heads back to the cockpit to get them back to the Cave. Jason tries to pay attention to Alfred’s movements as he works to stabilize Tim, but the ringing in his ears and the pulsing pain in the back of his leg combine with the motion of the plane to make him dizzy and queasy, so he closes his eyes and tries to keep from throwing up. 

The next thing he knows Dick is pulling him to his feet and scooping him into a bridal carry, and Jason drops his head against Dick’s shoulder. It’s warm and the feel of Dick’s muscles under his shirt is reassuring. He can hear again, barely, but it sounds like someone’s got their hands over his ears. Dick sets him down on his side on a bed in the med bay, he shudders and drags his eyes open. 

Dick is kneeling next to him. “Jay, hey there.” 

“Tim,” Jason says, “Tim’s really hurt.” 

“Yeah, but you found him,” Dick answers, and he runs his hand through Jason’s hair. “Bruce and Leslie are taking care of him now. Did he tell you anything? Why did the boat blow up?”

Jason shudders as the pain in his leg changes for the worse. “Two-face,” he grinds out. “He said it was Two-Face who had him, who rigged the boat. Was he watching? Waiting to see who found Tim and, and was it remote det? Dick, what if he was watching, waiting?”

“Dami, Cass, and Steph are inspecting the boat and where we picked you both up. They’ll figure it out. Alfred and I are gonna get that shrapnel out of your leg and check the burns on your back, ok?”

Jason panics again, like his dumb brain has been turned to molasses or something and he can’t help the fear. “Tim’s got burns. Dick, they look bad, Tim’s burns. Dick,” he whimpers as a wave of pain crests again.

“Yeah, but you’re hurt, too, Jay.” Dick looks over to where Alfred must be and nods. Jason feels an IV slip into his arm. 

“Dami and Steph,” he says, “What if it’s an ambush? What if Two-Face is waiting for them? He hates us, he’s the one who had Tim, Dick, he’s dangerous. Damian and Steph – do they know? Do they know it was him? Did you tell them?” Pain and fear and a frantic need to get up flush through Jason’s body and he struggles against Dick.

“I’m going to tell them, Jason. You have to lay still and let me call them. Jay, settle. I’ll call them. They’re good. You have to let me call them, okay?”

Alfred steps up behind Dick and pushes something into the IV line. The struggle flows out of Jason’s limbs and he can’t help but go limp against the bed. “Dick,” he whispers. “You have to tell them.” He wants to stay awake, wants to see Tim, wants to help the family, but he’s suddenly so damned tired.

“You’ve already helped the family, Master Jason. Now rest,” Alfred says as Dick steps away and taps the comm in his ear. 

“Tim,” Jason protests. He just wants to make sure Tim’s okay.

“Jason, my boy,” Alfred says sharply, “Let me take care of you.” 

Jason blinks and finally looks at Alfred. His eyes are tired and pinched with worry, and Jason doesn’t really want to add to that, so he nods as the room fades away around him. 


	2. The Best I Ever Had

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to chaosisorderly.

Jason wakes when Dick picks him up from the med bay bed, but the exhaustion soaking his body keeps him from opening his eyes, and he just lets his head knock into Dick’s shoulder as Dick’s hands pull Jason close.

“He grew into such a big guy,” he hears Dick say.

“His biological father was big,” Bruce answers.

“You knew him?”

“I met him once,” Bruce replies, and isn’t that news? Jason’s too tired to wake fully and ask about it, though. 

Dick shifts him a little in his arms and the press of Dick’s hips against his back is rhythmic as they go up the stairs. The warmth of Dick’s chest and his hands on Jason’s skin feels like a blanket. He can’t help but try and press further against Dick. A bubble of laughter in Dick’s chest jostles Jason’s cheek.

“He burrows,” Dick says, and pulls him closer. 

When Bruce presses his hand to Jason’s hair, and murmurs, “Touch-starved, if I had to guess,” Jason tries to drag his eyes open to glare, but he can’t. He also can’t help the way Bruce’s touch goes all the way down to his toes and his chest twinges with disappointment when Bruce pulls his hand away. 

Bruce might be right.

“He’s so worried about Tim,” Dick says. 

“They’re good friends now. Did you know they meet for coffee?"

“Jason drinks coffee?” 

Jason would correct him if he had the energy, but he’s almost back asleep in Dick’s arms.

“I suspect he’s still a hot chocolate guy,” Bruce answers. 

He’s fucking right. Coffee is disgusting. A door creaks open and Dick lays him gently down on something soft, must be a bed because someone presses a pillow against his back to keep him on his side and tucks a blanket around his shoulders.

“Stay with him, Dick,” Bruce says. “Don’t let him wake up alone.”

“Are you going back to Tim?”

“No. I’m going out to get Dent. Damian and Cass found a lead and Steph’s checking on another one right now.” 

“Let me come with you,” Dick argues, and Jason’s body lights with panic out of nowhere. Dick should stay here. If something happened to Dick, too? Jason’s not sure his screwed up emotions could handle that.

“No. Damian and Cass will back me up. I need you here with your brothers.”

“Bruce,” Dick protests.

“No,” Bruce says, sharp. “Do not let him wake up alone, do you hear me? Alfred is here and Steph should be back soon. Someone  _ will _ be here when he wakes. Preferably you.”

There’s a pause, and then Dick asks, “Why me?”

Jason wonders if Bruce is going to answer, but he finally says, “Because he believes every word you say,” and Jason grudgingly agrees. Dick hasn’t lied to him once since he came back from the League, whether Jason liked it or agreed with him or not.

Bruce’s hand is back on Jason’s hair and after a moment he presses a kiss to Jason’s forehead, and if he weren’t already two-thirds passed out, he’d pass out cold from that for damned sure, because God, it feels so fucking good. He tries to tell Bruce to stay, too, and he manages to drag his eyes open a little because this moment here with Bruce, it’s like a dream that Jason never wants to end. Bruce is dressed to leave, so Jason mumbles, “Stay with me.” He doesn’t care how desperate he sounds, how he hasn’t asked for anything from Bruce since he came back from the dead, how he’d sworn he’d never need anything from this man again. 

Apparently soft touches and a kiss pressed to his forehead are something he does need.

“Shhh, it’s going to be okay, kiddo,” Bruce says, and he brushes Jason’s white hair from his forehead. “You’re okay and Tim’s going to be okay and I’m going to go throw Harvey Dent into prison for eternity for hurting you both.” 

And while Jason knows that Arkham has a hard time keeping anyone for eternity, it’s the vehemence in Bruce’s voice combined with the gentle feel of his hand in Jason’s hair that keeps Jason quiet and lets him pass out for real this time.

<><><><><><><><>

When he wakes next, Dick is sitting close and staring at Jason like he was just waiting for him to open his eyes. 

“Hey,” Jason says, and Dick breaks into a wide grin.

“Jaybird, you’re finally awake.” He reaches over and pulls Jason’s hand into his. It’s warm and firm and Jason can’t help but stare at it. Dick’s holding his hand. While he’s awake. “How are you feeling? Are you thirsty?”

Jason blinks and looks up at Dick. He has dark circles under his bright blue eyes and his hair is matted on one side while the other side looks perfectly coiffed. He’s still holding Jason’s hand. “Yeah,” Jason answers. “Pretty thirsty.” 

Dick doesn’t let go, just reaches with his other hand over to the bedside table and holds the cup and straw close to Jason’s mouth. 

He drinks. “How’s Tim?” he asks as Dick sets the glass down.

“He’s doing better. Surgery for that stab wound went well and Leslie says he’s gonna be fine. Some pain issues with the burns, but he’s okay. He’s worried about you, but we told him you were gonna be fine. You guys can do PT together in a couple weeks.” 

Jason sits up and cringes at the dull pain in his back. There’s one of those crutch scooter thingies next to the bed, so he reaches for it, but he stops short and stares. 

Dick starts laughing. “I was bored, okay?”

It’s a typical gray metal, but it’s been absolutely covered in three kinds of duct tape – some with lollipops, some with Pokemon, and some with leopard print. He looks over at Dick. “I just want to know why you have this shit laying around.”

Dick shrugged. “I got mad at Bruce one day. He put me in charge of resupplies in the cave. I ordered what I wanted.”

“Did Tim add the Pokémon one?”

“Yeah,” Dick said with a smile. 

Tim and Jason had played the hell out of Pokemon Go when it came out, scrambling through parks and down side streets, stopping for chili dogs and ice cream while they were out, and once Jason and Damian had been running some errands and found a tiny stuffed Pikachu at the store. Jason had hidden it in Tim’s favorite coffee cup and it earned him a bark of laughter and hug from Tim. 

“I need to see him,” Jason said.

The smile drops off of Dick’s face. “Well,” he starts and then he stops.

“What?”

“Steph said he’s in a lot of pain. Why don’t I check and see if he’s awake. Leslie doesn’t want you up much today, and I don’t want you pushing yourself if he’s out.”

“Dick,” Jason growls. “I need to see him.” 

Dick stares out the window for a moment and then nods. “Okay.” 

Jason pulls himself up, wincing at the pull of the blisters on his back, and settles onto the scooter. He thinks of Dick carrying him from the plane to the med bay and from med bay to this room. He misses the warmth of Dick’s arms and Bruce’s hand in his hair. Bruce wasn’t wrong, really, about Jason being touch-starved. Sure, he came around for the occasional family dinner and to play games with Tim after patrol, but hugs and hands combing through his hair really weren’t something he felt comfortable asking for anymore. Tim would lean against him sometimes, and Jason would try and soak up the contact for as long as possible. 

Now Dick puts a hand on Jason’s elbow to steady him and Jason has to close his eyes for a second. 

“Jay?” 

Jason sighs. “Yeah. I’m okay,” he says, and heads out of the room toward the service elevator and down to med bay. “Are they gonna move him upstairs anytime soon?” 

“No. Not for a few more days at least. You know Tim’s gotta be careful about infection, right?”

“Yeah.” 

The first time Jason heard about Tim losing his spleen was after a vicious fight with Penguin’s men in the sewers where Tim had emerged with cuts and scrapes across his cheek and hands. Bruce ordered Tim to decontaminate twice and had practically hovered over him for an hour after and had shoved a bottle of antibiotics in his hand with a harsh, “If those cuts start to redden anytime soon, you start these.” 

Tim’s tired “I know, Bruce,” and a pretty severe eye-roll had led Jason to raise his eyebrow and demand the story. He did not like the story one bit. Fucking League wormed its way into every damned corner of Jason’s life, as it turned out. 

Dick runs a hand through his hair and sighs. “Well, he’s high-risk, so Leslie wants to keep him in the med-bay for a day or so to make sure his surgery site and those burns don’t cause him problems.” 

“Makes sense,” Jason answers as they ride down to the Cave. His feelings about Tim are complicated, and Jason never really went in for complicated feelings before. He was social before he died, even outgoing, but he didn’t really have a best friend. Keeping people happy was valuable, but friends could get taken away pretty quick in Crime Alley, and often did. Dick ended up being kind to him, but had barely really launched himself into big brother mode before he went off-world and Jason died. Tim, though, is his friend, and, if Tim can get Jason to admit it someday, his brother. He’s not sure about admitting that. It’s complicated.

Jason pulls himself into the room where Tim is asleep and looking way too goddamned pale against the white med bay sheets. He has a full oxygen mask on and a bandage wrapped around his head; his dark hair is sticking out of it messily. Leslie is there, checking something on a monitor when Jason comes in. Her skin is pale and there are dark circles under her eyes, but she smiles at Jason and Dick and moves quickly to help Jason sit down. 

On the couch. 

“There’s . . . . a fucking couch in here,” he says as he settles into it. “A gloriously comfortable leather couch, no less. Why the fuck did you guys move a leather couch into Tim’s med-bay room?”

Dick and Leslie exchange a look before Leslie says, “Bruce figured you’d want to stay here as much as you could, so he brought this in. It’s leather so we can wipe it down and keep it sanitized pretty easily. You still need to rest.” 

Jason looks at Dick, who gives a small nod. Bruce did this. For Jason. Fuck. He wipes his face with both hands and then looks over at Tim. “How is he?” 

Leslie’s face darkens a little. “I don’t like the way the surgery site for the stab wound is looking, but we’ll keep an eye on it. His other injuries are pretty standard for you bats.” 

“You sticking around, Doc?” Dick asks, settling in on the couch next to Jason.

Bruce had angled the couch so that the person on the end would be close enough to Tim to hold his hand or rest on the bedside if they wanted, and it’s taking every ounce of Jason’s energy to keep from reaching out and grabbing Tim’s hand. He’s not the clingy brother. That’s Dick, who has already scooted close enough to lean into Jason’s shoulder. Dick hadn’t been clingy with Jason since he came back, but he’d watched when he came over for dinner as Dick scooped Damian up for hugs and noogies at every turn, and how he would wrap himself around Tim’s back when Tim would sit on the floor in front of the couch to play games. 

Today, though, it seems like Dick took Bruce’s comment about Jason being touch-starved seriously. Jason’s stomach clenched at that and he shrugged Dick off his shoulder and glared until Dick sagged back against the cushions and away from Jason.. 

“I have to go back to the clinic in about an hour,” Leslie breaks in “I’ll be checking in tonight and coming back early tomorrow.” She ruffles Jason’s hair. “You get some rest, kiddo. Call me if you need me.” 

Jason nods. “Thanks, Doc.” 

When she leaves, Dick tries leaning against Jason again. 

“Fuck off, Dick!” He shoves him this time. 

“Come on Jay, I’m tired,” Dick grumbles.

“Go to bed then, asshole.” 

“Could you guys shut up? My head hurts,” Tim mutters from the bed, and both Jason and Dick sit up comically fast. 

Jason leans forward and his hand brushes Tim’s, and Tim fumbles to grab at it. Tim’s hand is so warm.

“Hey, Jason,” he says, and smiles a lopsided smile. “You’re okay?”

Jason can’t answer. He’s stuck staring at Tim’s blue eyes and the warm flush to his skin, such a contrast after the pallor at the boat. Tim’s okay and awake and that moment when Jason saw him passed out in that boat won’t stop flashing through his brain. He stares at Tim’s hand holding his and the warm callouses against his skin make Jason warm all over. 

He swallows. “I’m okay. You’re awake,” he adds dumbly. His brain is fuzzy, like there’s a curtain between his thoughts and the world, and Tim’s hand in his and Dick leaning into his shoulder are the only things tethering him here. He would fly to pieces if they pulled away.

“My head hurts and I feel a little floaty, but I think I’m okay. Thanks to you,” he adds, and Dick squeezes Jason’s shoulder in agreement.

It’s not thanks to him, really. It’s thanks to the dumb cooped up feeling that he gets when he’s here at the Manor for more than two hours, and it’s already starting to crawl under his skin like ants now. It’s because he ran from Bruce and then got lucky, really. “Right place at the right time is all,” he says, and tries to pull his hand away. 

Tim won’t let go. “Stay here with me for a bit?” he asks, and Jason’s heart races. He and Tim are definitely friends, and he doesn’t want Tim here in the Cave without anything that might possibly make him feel better, but the door seems to be taunting him. 

Fuck the door. “Yeah, I’ll stay. I think Alfred’s making curry tonight anyway. Can’t miss that.”

“That’s the God’s honest truth right there,” Dick chimes in. “Anyone who misses Alfred’s curry willingly is a masochist.” 

The smile drops off Tim’s face. “Awww, I bet they don’t let me have any tonight.”

Jason grins and squeezes Tim’s hand. “I’m sure the chicken broth will be just as delicious.” 

Tim laughs, and then winces and pales a little. “No making me laugh,” he whispers.

“Shit, I’m sorry, Tim,” Jason says.

“Hey,” Dick says, “Do you want me to go ask Alfred about more painkillers, Timmy?”

Tim nods and Dick climbs off the couch and heads for the door. “Get some rest, both of you. I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he says, and it’s that deep big brother voice that Jason hasn’t had aimed at him in a very, very long time. It pushes him back into the couch like a shove.

“I’ll make him nap,” Tim says, but his voice is breathy and thin and his eyes are closed, and Dick throws Jason a conspiratorial glance. 

“Yeah, make him sleep, Timmers.” 

Jason nods subtly. It’s  _ his _ mission to get Tim to rest. He can do that. When Dick leaves and he looks over at Tim he figures it’s going to be easy. Tim’s still grasping his hand, though, so he lets himself hold tight and he leans forward again. Rests his chin on his other hand and whispers, “Sleep a little, okay Tim?”

Tim opens his eyes and tries to glare at Jason, but it comes across and more of a sleepy stare. “Rather hang out with you. Think we can smuggle a gaming system down here? Hey,” he says with a little slur, “You can go get my Switch. Yeah. Do that, Jason.” 

Jason can’t help his smile. “Dick’ll kill me if I do that, not to mention that you probably have a concussion and that means no screens.” 

Tim groans.”Not fair, Jason. Not fair.”

“Yeah, I’m a jerk.” 

“Nah, you’re not. I”m really tired, though,” Tim says, and his eyes drift shut. 

Jason watches with his chin on his hand as Tim’s breathing evens out and his face relaxes into sleep. His own eyes slip shut and he blinks himself awake. He’s not going to sleep here. He has a room to go back to where he can be alone, like he’s used to. He’ll get up in a minute.

The next thing he’s aware of is Dick pulling him back to the couch, but he’s only aware enough to notice that Dick’s nestling him back against his shoulder. He wants to protest but he’s so tired and Dick’s sweatshirt is so soft, so he slips back to sleep. He doesn’t even notice Dick leaving and Bruce taking his place until he wakes up with his face pressed into Bruce’s grey cashmere sweater, the one that’s at least ten years old. Jason can remember squishing his face against the same one when he was fourteen and had a broken arm and he would swear that the thing smells the same. 

He allows himself another minute laying there, because he deserves good things, if you listen to Tim and the others. He nods back off to sleep and Bruce doesn’t move. 

When he comes awake screaming sometime later, it’s a good thing Bruce still has him, because Bruce scoops him up like a toddler and rushes him out of Tim’s room. Fear soaks Jason’s body and he can’t stop yelling, twisting, fighting to get away from the grotesque images of the Joker tearing Bruce apart in front of him in a warehouse filled with dust and flames and a blood-soaked floor. 

He yells and screams and Bruce lays him on the training mat but it’s red and Jason can only see blood and Bruce and his throat hurts and he just wants the images to fucking stop. 

“Jason, Jason,” Bruce says, and he tries to pin Jason down, but Jason’s bigger now, “built like a tank” Tim once said, and he’s scared. He has to stop the Joker, he has to stop him. He lashes out and his knee catches Bruce’s chin and his head snaps back just as Dick rushes into the room.

Dick gets himself on top of Jason and tries a different tactic. He just lays down, presses himself to Jason’s chest and doesn’t let him get any swings in at all. “Jason, stop. Jason look around. Look around the room, Jay. Come on, open your eyes.” 

So Jason does, and there’s Dick’s messy hair and Bruce hovering behind him, Dick’s chest pressed to his, and the dark jagged edges of the cave walls and Bruce and the exercise equipment and Bruce and the huge computer center behind them and … fuck. 

He stops. He breathes. Bruce kneels down next to him and his black hair is tousled and his turtleneck has some blood on it, but his blue eyes are bright and he’s there and he’s okay and talking to Jason, whispering his name and how he’s safe and that Bruce is alive. Dick leans back and brushes the sweaty white streak of hair out of Jason’s face. 

“Joker killed him,” Jason whispers. 

“No, he’s safe, Jay,” Dick says, “He’s safe,” and funny enough, Jason believes him. 

When Bruce stands up and disappears for a moment, though, Jason tenses again because what if Bruce doesn’t come back? His breathing picks up, ragged and fast.

“Shhh, Jay,” Dick says. “He’s going to get you some water. He’s coming right back. He’s okay.”

Jason looks over Dicks’ shoulder and when Bruce does come back, Dick intercepts the glass of water and starts to push Jason into Bruce’s space.

“You take him, B. He needs you.” 

Fuck. “No, no,” Jason protests. “I don’t. I’m okay. I’m okay.” But his limbs are heavy and his leg has started to throb, but Bruce just pulls him into his lap. Patiently, Bruce holds the water for him. He drinks, and Bruce rubs his back. From the corner of his eye, Jason spots Dick duck back into Tim’s room. 

“Does your leg hurt, Jaybird?” Bruce asks, and his voice seeps into Jason’s body like a warm drink after coming in from the freezing snow. It’s been so long since Bruce has talked to him like that, with nothing but concern for Jason’s well-being, with no intent other than to help. They’ve been working together for a while, but they were both getting something out of that, and Jason had been guarding himself carefully against Bruce. He can’t even remember the last time they were in a room alone together. 

He burrows against Bruce now and feels him laugh and tighten his hold. “Hurts a little,” Jason mumbles. “Don’t wanna move, though.” 

Bruce pulls him close and lets out a soft sigh. “Okay, kiddo. We’ll stay right here for a bit. You rest. I’ve got you.” 

So Jason listens to his father and rests.

  
  
  
  


  
  


  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Bargain" by The Who


End file.
